


MetaJets rewrite

by GalekhXigisi, MetaJets feral time (GalekhXigisi)



Series: MetaJets rewrite [1]
Category: MetaJets
Genre: my canon now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:40:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22114270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalekhXigisi/pseuds/GalekhXigisi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalekhXigisi/pseuds/MetaJets%20feral%20time
Summary: Johnny Miller is new to the MetaJets and easily decides that he, the boy with a lack of impulse control, is going to help save the world.Or I say fuck canon, I'm bringing this show back from the dead and making it my own.
Series: MetaJets rewrite [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589797
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4





	1. New Recruit

There were a lot of things that Johnny Miller has done in his life that,  _ technically, _ qualify as risky and actually entirely something he completely should not have done, sure, but this manages to take the entire fucking cake and put the rest of the competitors to shame. Yes, he had been told a million times before that he lacked an impulse control that every one required, but he stopped listening to that after he turned ten and “stole”  _ (read: tastefully borrowed and returned) _ a jet from one of his neighbors and took it for a spin on his own at two in the morning, much against his friends’ dismays. He didn’t get in trouble, though, and flew it back in one perfect piece! So  _ what _ if he almost crashed it? 

However, that lack of a control is what lead him to where he was now, just sporting a parachute as he floats down to the clear waters below. They could look inviting, but from where he’s sitting, it’s certainly not, more jets and drones dancing around him like he’s got nothing to lose. 

But, really, to get to that, someone would have to start at the beginning to understand, which was yet  _ another _ point where he was in a shitty situation that had to do with his jet and own lack of self-awareness that he’s rapidly realizing he simply  _ does not have. _ His aunt had told him a million times that he should, but he doesn’t, so, to each their own. 

Johnny just barely avoids crashing straight into the helicopter in front of him, mind flailing for answers to  _ where’d they come from _ and  _ who is that? _ He can’t manage to get any answers until he lands, which leads him face to face with George Strong, there in the flesh. The first thing he’s doing is smiling, apologizing, “Sorry if I gave you a bit of a freight there.” 

He holds a hand out for the curly redhead to shake, which Johnny is doing without a second thought. His eyes are wide and he’s star-struck as he voices, “You’re George Strong.” 

The man -  _ George fucking Strong - _ smiles wider and nods, not minding as the redhead lets go of his hand. “Guilty as charged,” he says, “and I have a question for you. Well, a few, actually.” 

“Y - Yeah, sure, ask away!” He happily supplies his answer, practically buzzing as he waits for the other to say whatever it is he’s going to say. 

And he says something that makes his eyes widen tenfold. “So, I’ve heard you’ve got the flying skills to possibly be a pro racer.” He cocks his hip the tiniest bit in a sly sort of way. “And I was wondering if you’d accept an invitation to possibly come and try out for it.” 

That was the beginning, the beginning that would define a lot of Johnny’s future. His aunt had been quick to get him to accept. She was practically already packing his bag by the time George Strong was leaving, so much information written down and a wide, hopeful smile on her face. She’s ecstatic, looking how happy Johnny feels. She jumps around the room, music playing through the air as she does her best to pack whatever it is he needs. 

-

Johnny wishes he could redo his first run-in with Trey Jordan,  _ really. _ He knows the boy well enough from the large number of posters he was on, currently number one on the leader boards. He’s taller than Johnny, a fair half foot or so. He has on a shirt that sits tightly to his frame  _ (Johnny swears on his fucking  _ **_life_ ** _ that if he flexed, it would fucking rip) _ with flames on the side. It’s all paired up with jeans and a shirt tossed over his shoulder. 

And he’s fussing at the short redhead, practically staring the flustered boy down. His cheeks are red as a blonde walks up to the two, placing a hand on Trey’s shoulder. Her hair is tied up in a bun, messy but somehow still kept in a way that looks fucking formal. Johnny has no idea how women  _ do that, _ but he can’t deny that he’s somewhat impressed as he watches the easily recognizable girl in casual clothing. She’s probably a good inch or two taller than Trey, leaning against his shoulder. She’s got on loose pants and a green tank-top on. She’s muscular in a way that intimidates Johnny, not that he’ll admit that. 

Another boy trails behind the blonde, focused solely on the little GameBoy in his hand, one of the older models that Johnny only saw on television. He doesn’t say much, a letterman jacket with green on it over his frame. It’s rather obviously not his, far too big. It doesn’t match the purple shirt and jean shorts with yellow and purple flowers on the sides. Johnny almost instantly marks the fact that the boy has on fucking  _ heels, _ too, which he walks in perfectly. The shoes are clunky but manage to fit perfectly with his messy ensemble, black hair around his face there, too. 

“Black Cloud didn’t really disappear,” the blonde -  _ Maggie Strong, current number two - _ says as she leans against Trey. She refers to the thing Johnny had been avoiding  _ (and almost hit Trey and Maggie’s jets over) _ like it was nothing. “They’ve been coming back lately, now worse than ever, actually.” She informs him so easily. “It’s actually kind of weird.” 

“Oh,” is all the redhead says, looking at the shortest boy. He thinks the jacket must be Maggie’s since it’s green, cropped at the midsection lip any typical crop top would be. 

Maggie offers a welcoming smile as she nods her head at his jet, “Nice jet. Did you build it yourself?” 

“Uh,” Johnny stutters for a moment before taking in her words, “Yeah, actually, I did. I took stripped some old farm equipment for parts.” 

She smirks, amused as she asks, “Seriously?” She raises a brow and cocks her head. “I was actually kidding.” 

Trey snorts as he says, “Ah, so we got a farmboy on our hands, huh? Not much of a surprise there.” 

The redhead doesn’t justify the schoolyard taunt with a response. Instead, he says, “I’m Johnny Miller.” 

“Maggie Strong,” the blonde supplies smoothly. “Sunshine over here,” she says, eyes turning towards Trey, “Is Trey Jordan. And the international superstar over there with his nose in the game is Zachary Kim.” She points to the boy behind her, who, really, Johnny doesn’t think isn’t paying any sort of attention. 

He’s easily proved wrong when the boy says, “Hey, just call me Zak. Everyone does.” He offers a smile and quirk of his eyebrows, as well as a little smirk, but that’s about it. Johnny wonders how good his senses are, especially since the game he’s playing is making high-pitched noises that Johnny is pretty sure mean  _ Perfect hit _ or something to that effect. He looks solely focused on the console, but it’s clear that’s not the truth by the way he easily avoids running into Maggie, who had stopped a moment ago. 

“Hey, your dad actually just recruited me,” Johnny says to Maggie, facing her with a wide smile. 

There’s a wave of shock that washes over Maggie and Trey, their own versions of  _ What _ leaving them. Zak only hums and raises a brow that was slack a moment before. “That’s not surprising,” he says, “You didn’t hit Maggie or Trey a minute ago and you only had a couple of seconds to think, right?” 

Johnny frowns. “How’d you know that?” 

“I always watch their races,” he nods towards the two, “and you had Black Cloud jets on you one second. The next, you were in the middle of them, turning and stuff.” He still hasn’t looked up, fingers tapping away. “Your reflexes have to be fast and you have to know what you’re doing to keep from hitting them right then.” 

“You watch our races,” Trey asks with his own raised brow. 

Zak nods. “You still need to win your qualifiers, right?” 

Johnny blinks, dumbly responding, “Uh, yeah, I do.” 

“They start in a few,” is all he says before turning away, “M’going to my jet, see you guys in a bit.” 

As if on time, one of the announcements calls,  _ “Up next, Johnny Miller against Zachary Kim,” _

“Well, sooner than I thought,” Zak laughs. 

-

When the two land, Zak doesn’t seem at all upset that he had lost. In fact, he’s poking passive fun at the other, asking about the build and inspecting it with a smile. And Johnny doesn’t mind, watching the other poke around happily, simply inspecting the jet and not actually prying. It’s clear he’s rather amazed with it, even if it lacks something as simple as a seat cushion. In fact, Johnny wonders if the boy  _ let  _ him win. He doesn't doubt it, not that he'd tell anyone that little tidbit of information. Not with his pride still there, at least. 

“You made it!” George Strong suddenly says, “I almost thought you wouldn’t!” 

Johnny scoffs half-heartedly at the other. “My Aunt Louise practically threatened to disown me if I didn’t at least try!” Comes the easy retort. 

(They tastefully ignore the thud and  _ Ow _ from Zak hitting his head that follows, whether it be for the poor boy’s pride or simply because Captain Strong was used to it going unknown. Johnny suspects it’s both since the man’s eyes don’t even flicker in acknowledgment, unlike Johnny’s own did.)

The adult smiles as he says, “I guess she’ll be happy to hear that her nephew is now the newest pro racer to the ARC family.” 

His cheeks heat up as his smile widens, “Thank you, sir!” 

“You can call me Captain Strong, now,” he supplies with a supportive hand pressed against his shoulder. It’s a parental move that feels almost home-like to Johnny. With the focus he kept on it, he didn’t even notice the two stalking behind him until he heard Captain Strong saying, “Maggie, Trey, you could probably learn a thing or two from Johnny over here.” 

“So we get bagged on but  _ not _ Zak,” Maggie playfully jutts. The mentioned boy doesn’t respond to that, still focused on the homemade jet. “He’s the one that lost to Johnny.” The man just smiles and walks away, leaving the group to discuss as Zak finally makes his way forward, beelining for them. She turns her attention to the redhead, playfully jabbing at him now. “Despite what my dad says, I’m really not that impressed.” There’s no anger in her tone, just a happy lilt Johnny isn’t used to. “It takes more than just winning a race once to make you pro material.” 

Trey scoffs at that, prodding, “Yeah, some victory! That was a cheap move there!” 

At addressing the small move that ultimately put the redhead in first place and not Zak, the raven-haired boy only looks away. Johnny’s sure he’s the only one that sees the move, but it’s obvious that Zak had let him win, which makes for a brow raise from the redhead. The shorter only smiles back at him with a finger over his lip in a  _ hush _ motion. 

It takes a moment for Johnny to realize that Trey is still fussing at him  _ (again). _ Within the few seconds he had been turned away, the boy only looked angrier, ending with, “And you need the skill to back it up!” 

Johnny takes the jeer easily. Once again, he realizes, he lacks a filter as he says, “I’ve got the skill! I bet I could fly circles around you, no problem!” 

“I bet my  _ jet _ you can’t, Farmboy!” He points a finger at the other, glare harsher now. “Care to state yours on it?” 

Zak sighs softly, fingers folded behind his head as he casually walks to stand beside his two friends, leaning against Maggie like it’s second nature. It’s suddenly very clear that the jack he still has on is hers. Johnny half-heartedly wonders if they’re together as the raven-haired boy says, “Don’t do it, Johnny. He’s number one on the circuit.” 

“He’s out of your league,” Maggie agrees. If the two weren’t an item, they certainly were close, probably paired up as best friends or something of that sort. It’s painfully clear as they fall into perfect sync with each other, despite the already contrasting personalities they sport. The redhead can only marvel at their bond and wonder just how deep it went for both of them. He knows it’s not yet his place to pry about their pasts. He wonders if he’ll ever get there.

“I  _ accept,” _ Johnny easily says. 

“Your funeral, Farmboy!”

  
  


While the four load in their jets for the race that would follow, Maggie stops Zak, hand pressing to the boy’s shoulder as she asks, “Why’d you let him win?” 

Zak hums, smiling as he puts on his helmet. “Kid’s got potential,” he easily says, “and he’ll have the real skill soon enough.” With that final cryptic message, he gets into his jet, leaving the blonde with a curiously raised brow. She can only wonder what in the  _ Hell _ her best friend is thinking. 

-

“This is a pretty shit idea,” Johnny hears Zak say over the comms, rather calm as he does so. If Johnny didn’t know any better, he’d say from the casualness of his tone that he was sitting back, eating chips as he watched the two get ready for their race. He’s not, though. Instead, he’s doing merry loops around them, just showing off the fact that the can fly, Johnny’s sure. It’s clear within that moment that Zak  _ had _ let him win, actually. 

Maggie’s voice follows, “Yeah, Trey. If you get caught in a non-sanctioned race, you’ll get docked some  _ serious _ points for it.” 

Trey casually supplies, “It’s worth it.” The fire in his voice is still apparent. “Besides, no one important ever comes down to ground level anymore! Who’s gonna know?” He doesn’t give anyone any time to answer as he turns his head towards Johnny, easily asking, “You ready?” The farmboy holds a thumbs up at him, smiling. “Then prepare for air.” The countdown follows his words, to which the two are off. 

The two jut each other for a while, that is until Trey is suddenly pulling away, the other two following them. Johnny tails, ducking at the last minute. 

-

Maggie sighs, “Any Black Cloud activity makes it a MetaJets mission, even if we  _ are _ just babysitting someone.”

“You sound like your  _ dad,” _ Trey jabs at Maggie. 

The blonde glares daggers into him. “You say that like it’s a bad thing!” 

From where Johnny stands, hiding behind a wall, he’s almost certain the two are about to start fighting like children, pulling at each other’s hair and all just to accent it. However, Zak easily deters, “Hey, hey,  _ calm down. _ Can’t we just get this done? It’ll be quick, just a milk run, line you said, right?” He turns his attention towards Trey, still slack with his movements and in no obvious sort of distress. It appeared that whatever was going on was normal for him. 

It’s easy to see where their dynamic lies just within those few moments right there. Trey was the hotrod, easily dissected then and there by the simple actions. Johnny’s seen him rise through the ranks, he’s aware just how competitive the other is. And Maggie is no better, though her anger is easily far from as high as her companion’s own. She’s a little more cooled down than he is, but still an easy contender for him to go up against. She’s got the skill, everyone knows, the girl ranked just behind him, and he has no doubt that she’s easily a physical match, too. She’s muscular, just like he is, and the two would certainly make for a fun match to watch. Despite that, it’s clear that Zak is their peacekeeper. The two are both too stubborn, probably rare to back down, especially when it comes to each other. Their dynamics are tight and it’s obvious that this isn’t their first rodeo. However, Zak is there to keep things from progressing into anything too topsy turvy. 

Trey sighs, turning towards the watch on his wrist as he says, “Activating MetaGear!” Johnny hadn’t even noticed it until now. “Burner!” 

Maggie has her own watch, one that she’s turned towards, too. “Foxtrot!’ 

Zak has a casual smile and tone that don’t exactly match their intensity as he faces a ring that easily sits into the other bunches that sat on his fingers. Johnny’s  _ really _ starting to realize he hadn’t paid that much attention to them or their accessories as Zak speaks into the ring in a near sing-song voice, “Vector!”

Johnny watches the armor coat their bodies, stemming mostly from their helmets. He gasps, just narrowly avoiding getting caught. In his haste that follows, he rushes out of the room, quick to find the first unlocked room he can. 

As the redhead easily finds, the very first room is a trophy room, shelves lining the walls behind closed glass. However, there are a few things that  _ aren’t _ behind the glass, one of which things is a picture that so easily catches Johnny’s eye, making him turn towards it with a raised brow and choke off his throat. There stands two men, one with red hair that’s not as fiery as Johnny’s own but so easily recognizable as the boy peers at it. It’s his father, auburn locks and all, standing beside someone that is, quite obviously, Captain Strong. They were certainly younger than they are now, probably during some of the years before MetaJets became a big public sort of thing, if not  _ during. _ Johnny finds himself picking up the photo without a second thought, running it over in his hands for a moment before sobering up. He was prying, doing something he totally  _ shouldn’t _ have done. He places the photo back without a second thought. He kind of wishes he had a second thought and also that he had the thought to filter anything or thing out his actions before he did any of them. 

He did not. 

He watches with wide eyes as the shelves pull themselves away, folding into the ceiling. There reveals something similar to a hanger behind it, glass clear. There are four spots for jets, only three of which are occupied and lit up. It’s easy to tell which is which, Maggie’s green jet in the top left corner, Zak’s yellow and purple on the bottom left beneath hers, and Trey’s telling blue on the bottom right. The final spot looks almost somber without a jet transforming into something entirely new in it, but there it stood, vacant and alone. The three follow easily.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” a voice interrupts Johnny’s amazement, making him turn sharply towards it. 

“Uh, Captain Strong, I-” 

“This is a highly restricted area,” the adult says, not giving him the chance to speak. “That trick you pulled there, riding in on Trey’s heat signature made it so it wasn’t until you broke off that we registered you on our radar.” 

Johnny barely holds his tongue to counter  _ That’s a faulty fucking design if I can do it. _ Yeah, that certainly would not get him any brownie points. Instead, he distracts himself by countering, “You didn’t tell me you knew my dad.” 

The other nods as he walks forward, “He was the best pilot I knew. We joined MetaJets together.” 

“MetaJets?” 

“A covert team of crack pilots dedicated to keeping the skies safe. Your dad was field leader. Well, until he disappeared during the Black Cloud war nin years ago. He saved my life in the process.” The man stares longingly at that empty spot. It feels bitter, really, for both of them. 

“So,” Johnny asks, head titled to the side and an arm folded over his chest, “Let me get this straight first.” The Captain turns towards him. “You’re the captain of some undercover teenage spies while also being the chairman kind-of-slash head of the ARC racing circuit?”

“It’s a cover, Johnny, so we can work worldwide without there being any raised brows. But, it also gives me the opportunity to recruit new MetaJets members.” 

“What?”

“Your dad wanted you to follow in your footsteps,” the man so easily tells like this doesn’t change a lot for the redhead. However, he quickly sobers up, a pained look on his features. “However, I can’t say you’re ready for this position, yet.” 

“Why aren’t I,” Johnny asks before he can put his foot in his mouth and stop himself, anger so easily there in his tone. 

“You need proper field training, as well as more experience with these things. It’s not something that just happens overnight like some people think. This isn’t a movie. It takes more than just all your flashy jet skills to get you up to their ranks.” 

“But-” 

“The answer is  _ no, _ Johnny.” It’s clear he isn’t going to budge on what he’s saying for now. “The identities of the MetaJets members is highly classified and limited, Johnny, so I’m counting on you to keep it that way.” 

“Yes, sir,” Johnny says before he has any chance to say anything  _ else _ that will throw him into hot water. 

The man turns, already making his way out as he says, “I trust you can find your way to your own jet.” 

-

In the midst of his leave and Johnny’s lack of impulse control, Johnny so easily finds himself in the middle of a Black Cloud attack. It’s rather shitty, he thinks, to be stuck here in the middle of it all. He had heard the attack from a radio distress signal, but that was far from the point as the teenager watches the other jets take hits. With each jet having their own assigned go after pro, it’s easy to tell none of them are going to be able to help each other. 

Johnny _ really _ wishes he had an impulse control as he says, “Tr- Uh, Burner, stay on your current path.” 

“Not the time to be playing chicken, Farmboy!” The pro jeers. 

“I’m here to help! Dive on my mark!” 

“I give the orders on this team!” 

“Stop being a stubborn  _ dick,” _ the redhead rebuttals instead of listening to his comebacks. 

“You’re gonna get yourself  _ killed!” _

“If I didn’t know any better, Burner, I’d say you actually  _ cared,” _ he derides. 

Zak’s - no,  _ Vector’s _ voice falls through the comms, “Hey, lovebirds, stop  _ flirting _ and do whatever it is you’re going to!” 

“We’re not-” 

_ “Dive,” _ Johnny suddenly yells, finger on the ejection button. Despite the banter, the other  _ does _ dive, leaving the redhead to depend on the button that he had never once tested before. Thankfully, he sails out just fine. 

Accept it’s very much not fine because he’s in the middle of the sky with no defense whatsoever. Foxtrot takes her aim just seconds before another jet collides into  _ Johnny. _

“That should give you a safe landing,” she recounts. “We’ve got friendlies on the horizon, too!” 

Johnny heaves out a relieved sigh. 

-

“I’m proud of all of you,” Captain Strong says, though he leats out a defeated huff, “Even you, Johnny, despite you disobeying a direct order.” 

“I’m glad you did it, Ace,” Trey says with a smile that his friends mirror. 

Johnny raises a brow. “Ace? That sure beats Farmboy.” 

“No, no, you’re  _ still _ Farmboy,” the other counters, “you jus’ get that, too.” 

“While it is nice that you’re all getting along so well,” Captain Strong interrupts, “there is a large problem. For Black Cloud to know where we were like that, they needed classified data, which can only mean that there is a spy amongst our ranks.” While he seems tense, there’s an obvious casualness to his tone. “Until I can root them out, you’ll all need to be extra sharp on future missions.” 

Captain Strong certainly doesn’t miss the way Johnny brightens as he trials off with a hopeful, “You mean?...” 

“I figured I was probably a little too hard on you earlier. If you still think you can handle the responsibility and training you’ll need _ and _ it doesn’t interfere with your racing performance, then I’m sure you’ll fit in just fine. That is, if you’d like a trial run or two with MetaJets.” 

“There’s one problem with that, though,” Johnny says with a slight cringe. 

“Which is?” 

He hopelessly says, “My jet…”

“Actually, I’ve got an answer to that.” 

-

The tarp gets ripped away with one fell swoop, leaving the monstrous jet out in the open for all to see. Johnny wonders how much strength Captain Strong carries for it to be so easy of an action, but the reminder of how muscular Maggie is easily tells him where she gets it from. He guesses it must have been the thinnest, lightest fucking sheet they could find. 

“Woah,” Johnny says through his amazement. 

“Try to take better care of it than your last one,” Maggie teases with a smirk. 

“Where’d it even come from? DO you all have jets just on deck?” 

Captain Strong shakes his head. “No, it was your father’s, actually.” He easily deflects that to a different topic. “It’s got a liquid nitrogen-based weapons system. Your dad’s codename wasn’t Ice Strom for nothing, after all.” She pulls a watch from his pocket, tossing it at the other, who catches it on reflex. “You’ll need this. Just push the blue button.” 

Johnny does so without a second thought, watching the jet hover beside him, transforming so easily. “Wow,” Johnny says with stars in his eyes. 

“So,” Zak jeers, “what are you waiting for? Let’s take it for a test drive!” 

Trey easily supplies, “Yeah, you still owe me that race anyhow, Farmboy.” 


	2. Opening Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forwarning for y'all needing it, there is parental abuse and child abandonment mentioned and hinted at during this chapter, as well as blatantly said. There is soft discussion on the wounds from the abuse. Please stay safe, y'all.

“Neck and neck heading into the turn?!” Johnny yelps happily, “You _must_ be slipping, Trey!” 

The other boy laughs, something so light-hearted and fun. The two had somewhat simmered out of their rivalry within the past couple of weeks, now sitting calmly on a cold burner that stemmed off friendly competition and flirty banters _(not that they’d admit they were flirty, no, never)._ “I was just going easy on you!” Comes the easy reply. He’s happy to be out in the air, soaring hundreds of kilometers above ground level. Well, as “ground level” as they can get over the sea, really. 

Zak decides to change his projected target to Maggie, never having been focused on the two boys in front of him to really begin with, either. “Hey, Maggie,” he quips, “you’re really laying low in the back, huh? What’s the hold-up, you’re usually ahead of me.” That was true, something Zak never held against the girl. His jet was built for power, not speed, after all. It was built more with a powerful weapons system than it was with a powerful boost. Zak liked having that sort of power, though no one was sure why. He had always said he liked being ahead of the game, but, really, he wasn’t in the race and there was only so much his booming system could do out in the field with Black Cloud.

“And burn my engine out on the first practice run?” She snorts. “As _if!_ I’ll save the big guns for the real race!”

“I mean,” Johnny says with a shrug, somewhat slowing down, “I guess you _do_ have a point? Maybe I could hang back with you? Keep you company?” 

Johnny _knew_ he’d get a retort from Trey for that. It follows accordingly. “I guess you finally realized you were no match for me, huh, Johnnyboy?” 

“Keep dreaming!” There’s a happy laugh to his voice. “You’re going down!” 

Zak scoffs from behind them. “What am I? _Chopped liver?_ I could take both of you on!” Despite that, he doesn’t change his speed, still hanging back with Maggie, mapping out the course from behind the others. He liked the calm of the practice runs and often spent them talking about details with Maggie around the third or fourth lap. 

He can see Maggie’s raised brow from where he is, doing a loop over her just to wave at her. She rolls her eyes. “Haven’t you three ever heard the phrase _slow and steady wins the race?”_

“Not while in a jet!” 

She huffs, watching as he takes a dip, rather just showing off now more than anything, which makes sense given that he’s cruised this specific lane so many times. Maggie and Trey have, too. Trey was already showing off for the redhead recruit, jeering the other with a smirk. “You three are _insufferable,”_ she huffs as she caves, smiling. 

“Awe, you sound like my _mom!”_ Zak retorts. From Maggie’s spot so far above him, she’s sure the other boy has a hand over his chest, mocking her. 

“Zak, that’s not…” Trey’s voice trails off, not finishing. “Never mind.” 

Maggie doesn’t finish for him, either, not as her jet suddenly lurches. She’s almost thrown out of her seat by the forced stop, two clamps on the wings of her jet. Within an instant, she’s desperately dialing for any form of help, practically grasping at straws as she calls for the others, or, well, any racer close enough to catch her signal. Her systems seem to be fried before she gets that chance, though, her jet getting pulled into the bottom of a carrier she doesn’t recognize as her father’s own. 

_Oh,_ is all she can think as she stares at the carrier of the notorious Black Cloud’s mothership. 

-

“What do you _mean,”_ Captain Strong yells, earning a flinch and grimace from Zak. 

It’s rather pitiful to watch how tense he gets without Maggie around, the tall blonde no longer there for him to hide behind like he tended to do, so subtle with the motions that Johnny _\- and Trey -_ hadn’t noticed until it was practically shoved in his face. For Johnny, it had been Captain Strong outright telling Zak during one of their many training sessions that he needed to stop using her as a shield, that he wasn’t a kid anymore and was now an official member of the MetaJets. Yeah, it still hadn’t changed, not by the way he subconsciously grabs for Johnny’s hand, the boy being the only one reachable without it looking suspicious. Johnny doesn’t dare let go at the tight grip he feels around his fingers. Trey glances at the two, his eyes hovering over Zak for just a moment more than Johnny, tentative and worried. Their hands stay hidden behind the redhead’s helmet. 

“Jets don’t just _disappear!”_

“One second, she was there,” Trey takes for the two, “The next-” he makes an explosive motion with his hands and weak, _“Poof!_ She was gone, sir!” 

“She vanished like a Kaltine on an alien warship!” Zak rambles, seemingly have taken back some of the pep for a moment before it easily disperses at the three’s raised brows and disgruntled looks. “What?” he asks, genuinely confused, “You’ve _never_ played _Kaltine?”_

“Never heard of it,” Trey says. 

Johnny interrupts, “That’s not helping.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, easy smile on his face, hands help up above him in a surrendering pose. 

Their attention turns back to Captain Strong, who faces away from them now. Trey, as their leader, decides to take the fall as he supplies, “Sir, we scoured the entire sector and we didn’t see any sign of her. Or hear from her. There weren’t any reported crashes or anything, either.” 

“Sir, without her tracker on, it’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack.” Johnny tries. 

However, it only seems to worsen the adults’ temper he sharply turns towards them. “I want results, not excuses! She has to be _somewhere!_ Now, get out there and _find my daughter!”_ The Captain storms out, leaving the three in silence for a moment, Zak hanging off of both of the two, standing behind them. When had he even _gotten ther?_

Slowly, as they pull themselves from their jolt, Zak mumbles, “I could try tracking her last message since she didn’t finish with it, but… it might take a while.” 

Trey groans, motioning towards the door as he turns towards the raven-haired boy. “You couldn’t say that _before_ he started yelling at us?” 

“I don’t work well under adult pressure,” Zak retorts, huffing at the other. 

Johnny decides to butt in before the two start catfighting, pushing them away from each other _(read: putting himself between them and then realizing he didn’t have much strength on either, easily realizing he lacked the obvious training the had.)._ “Just because Maggie isn’t here doesn’t mean our roles are swapped! Zak’s still mediator, we don’t need any more infighting!” 

Zak suddenly pulls away, which makes the newest recruit almost tumble to the ground. If not for Trey’s hand holding his arm, he certainly would have fallen. He looks somewhat sad as he asks, “You look at me as the mediator?” 

“I mean…” Trey’s voice trails off, as he rubs the back of his neck, steam having cooled off quickly, “What… What else would we look at you as?” 

He motions towards his head, somewhat frustrated as he huffs, “I don’t know! The _brains!_ Since you and Maggie are the brawns and Johnny is the beauty!” 

“Okay, _okay,”_ Johnny surrenders, “I didn’t know you were so sensitive about it! We can rename our dynamics _later,_ okay? Right now, we have to find Maggie before her dad has _all_ of our heads.” 

Zak and Trey both shudder at the reminder. 

-

“I trust you made our guest… _comfortable,”_ the man from the shadows asks, still hidden behind a thick cloak. The robotic eye scans the two he’s addressing, taking in their looks. 

The girl standing beside the green jet smirks, hand still pressed to the hull as she says, “Sent three guys to the med bay for stitches in the process, but she’s locked up tight enough.” Her smooth voice only fills the room for a moment. 

“They got off easy,” their general counters, “She _is_ the daughter of a soldier, after all.” 

Flygirl nods, smirk still apparent, as well as the slight gap in her teeth as she peers at her own nails to muse, “Girl’s got _claws.”_ Her hair falls over her shoulder, black strands perfectly kept together in form. “I like that.” 

The general seems like he wants to say something, though he stops himself before he pushes. Instead, he says, “Keep a close eye on her. Crusher, Flygirl, I expect you to make her as uncomfortable as you possibly can while I attend to… _matters_ accompanying some _dear old friends.”_

  
The blonde hunk beside her smirks, knuckles colliding with his palm as he heavily implies, “Oh, we _will.”_ However, the instant their general is out of the room, he turns towards Flygirl and asks, “We’re not going to really _huer her,_ are we?” 

She smiles and shakes her head. “No, but I’ve got a score or two to settle with our beloved _Maggie Strong.”_

“You got some sort of beef with her?” 

The girl smirks, suggesting, “You could say that, _yeah.”_

-

The three boys that had been in their jets hangars moments ago now stood in front of the newest transmission, suited up in their gear with Captain Strong standing in front of them, standing guard. _(Captain Strong pretends he doesn’t see Zak and Trey’s fingers tightly laced, just as he does when he realizes Trey’s also holding Johnny’s hand, too.)_ The captain of the ship easily flowing with an angry, “Who are you and what does any of this have to do with my daughter?” 

  
There’s a laugh on the other end of the black-paved screen. Is sits familiar in all of them, some of which can’t pin, others of which can painfully do so. It leaves the room uneasy, the perpetrators voice not helping, either. _“Ah,_ George Strong!” He muses in a far too cheery tone. “You’re _just_ as you used to be! Direct and to the point!” 

“I suppose you aren’t,” the Captain asks with a tentatively raised brow. He’s in no mood to be strategic or cryptic. He wants his _daughter._

Another cackle leaves the no-faced kidnapper. “Your precious little _twerp_ is perfectly fine, I _assure you…”_ His voice trails off, the team waiting for the _but_ that always comes. It’s diverted but still implied. “If you’d like for her to stay that way, I only need you to do me _one_ tiny favor.” he holds up a finger, pale skin coming into view. 

“What sort of _favor,”_ the other asks, glaring at the screen. 

They can hear the smile in his voice. “Hold a press conference, _today,_ before even the _first_ race, announcing the cancelation of the ARC racing season.” 

The reactions in the room range over different spectrums, some being soft gasps, others being defeat. Ace and Burner manage sharp, solid glares while Vector flinches at the announcement as if it was damnation in and of itself. However, Captain Strong holds his ground as he announces, “I’m only the chairman, I don’t have the _power_ to do that.” Somehow, he keeps the desperation out of his voice. It’s a miracle. 

“You have to meet those demands, _period.”_

You let her go _right now-”_

“Or _what,_ Captain? You’ll send your fleets? Your MetaJets can only do _so much.”_

“I-” 

“However, I _can_ promise you that I _will_ let her go! But whether or not she has a parachute is _entirely up to you.”_

The Captain grits his teeth, grinding them as he forces out, “Why are you _doing this?_ She’s just a kid, she’s _innocent_ and has nothing to do with _any of this!”_

“She’s a pilot, is she not? Number two in the league.” The Captain falters. “I guess you could say prying racing from her is _settling an old score.”_ The darkness is suddenly erased, showing an older man bathed in a large cape-like cloak. His long hair is held up in a neat ponytail, all too orderly at the lighter patches that barely give it definition. An awfully cliche goatee sits on his chin that could _clearly_ paint him as the villain, something anyone with an eye _(and a half)_ could see coming. Zak _almost_ rolls his eyes at the villain, though he’s not sure he wouldn’t get a smack for it from both his colleagues _and_ his boss alike. 

_“Raven,”_ Captain Strong whispers in disbelief. 

“As the new leader of Black Cloud, I now go by _General Raven._ You’re no longer the only one with an army at your disposal, _Captain.”_ He smiles crookedly at the screen, threat clear. All he was missing was a knife in his hands and pressing to his tongue to get that full _psycho_ vibes. “You have until the first race to make your decision.” With that, the entire call is canceled. 

“Trace the communication signal,” Captain Strong says, though Zak is already leaning beside Major _\- pushing him out of his own seat was more like it -_ to get a good look at the screen. 

“It’s bouncing around VPNs, Captain,” he reports. 

“Can you trace it, Vector?” 

There’s a shrug from the raven-haired boy, though he’s smiling as Major moves over to let him at the keys. Within seconds, he’s already making progress. “I can get it done faster in the hangars! I’ve already got Maggie’s last transmission getting scanned, it’ll make things go much faster!” 

“Good,” the Captain says, already making his way there, leaving the other three to follow as Major says he’ll transfer everything. None of them get the chance to dispute it. 

  
  


“General Raven was a top-ranked ARC racer,” the general begins, not minding as Vector stands over a computer set up on a rolling cart, hopping from one foot to the other as he typed. Despite the typing and focus he has aimed at the computer, the Captain knows the second-oldest active member is still listening. “That was until he was banned for life. He sabotaged one of his competitor’s jets and it caused a near-fatal collision. Four people almost died that day.” 

Burner asks, “So, why’s he going through you to get this shut down? The board ain’t gonna be too happy and they’ll overturn your idea within an _instant.”_

“I destroyed his career years ago by getting him banned from racing… With this decision, the council will get backlash, as will I and many others, which will force me to step down. I imagine they’ll call for my removal, especially knowing that I gave into a terrorist’s demands. He knows I control Metajets, too, and it will probably be disbanded after I get tossed out.” There’s a somber sigh. “This is not going to be an easy ride-out.” 

“Doesn’t have to be.” Zak supplies for them. It takes him another second before he snaps a finger at the screen displayed in front of him. “I think I got it! I can’t be sure until we check it out, though!” 

The Captain deadpans, “How fast can you be in the air?” The three were already piling into their jets, just happy to finally be of genuine help. He doesn’t have to wait but a minute before they’re all ready, comms active as they await orders. “Listen up. Black Cloud has you not only severely outmanned, but they also have you outgunned while you’re in their territory. If there’s to be _any_ chance of your success _and_ survival,” the Captain grimly states, “you need to all get in and out _undetected,_ alright? With your cover blown, not only is her life on the line but so are _yours.”_

Zak stares at his console as he listens to their words, downcast and unfocused. The other two kept up all their brooding intensity, though. Ace easily supplies a tense, “You can count on it, sir.” That’s their final send-off, Silence takes over for a moment before Johnny tentatively asks the two, “How are you guys holding up?” 

“Aye, don’t ask _me,”_ Burner says, “Ask Vector, he’s been her best friend since they were kids.” 

“I can hear you guys, you know,” comes the glum response. 

“Are you going to answer, then,” Burner says. 

There’s a moment of silence. It’s almost defeaning, carrying on for too long and bringing forth the potential of injuries inflicted on its listeners. He softly says, “I could have prevented this… If I would have just _stayed back…”_

Ace tentatively tries, “You were the closest to her, Vector, but there’s only so much more you can do. Black Cloud would have handed our asses to us without our MetaJets.” 

From where they both are, Burner and Ace can both see him shake his head as he softly whispers, “That’s not what I mean,” before his comm falls silent, line going down as he curls up in his seat. Neither pry, knowing better than that by now. 

-

“Miss Strong,” the general muses at his captive, “I trust your stay has been fun so far?” He takes on a baby-voice as he prods fun from the unresponsive blonde. _“What’s wrong?_ Cat got your _tongue?”_

The girl beside him presses a sharp nail to the cages bar, dragging it down. The metal screeches in protest as Flygirl muses her own sly, “Give me five minutes with her. I can have her singing like a _canary.”_

The general shakes his head. “That won’t be necessary, Flygirl. I’m sure her _daddy_ will make the right choice.” 

Only then does the blonde respond, glaring between the bars to angrily snarl, “He’s not that _stupid!”_

“But he _is_ when it comes to his precious little birdy,” he coaxes. “I have no doubt that he’s sending his MetaJet _fools._ The only question is if they’ll get here in time or not!” 

Maggie doesn’t justify his words with a response, glaring at his back as he walks away. 

Flyrgirl, in his place, leans against the bars, smiling at the girl still locked in the cage. “Hello, Magpie,” she taunts, bending down to be eye level with her. “Been a while, hasn’t it?” 

The blonde scoffs. _“A while,”_ she mocks, but it’s confirmation nonetheless. “How’ve things been,” Maggie asks after a beat. 

Flygirl hums. “Five years and all you can ask is how things have been?” 

_“Seven years,”_ the blonde playfully corrects with a nod. “But, yeah, there’s not much else _to_ ask.” 

The other hums out a laugh as she nods. “I guess you _are_ right, Mags. You always were…” Her voice trails off before she sits on the floor, not fully facing the other but her attention certainly drawn towards her. “After my mom died, I started running from every home they put me in, all that kid rebellion shit you see from a kid wanting a parent’s attention during a shitty Christmas movie, you know?” 

“Of course, I do,” she says, turning towards her, “we’d watch them during the parties Dad would throw…” 

Flygirl laughs and nods. “Yeah, we would, wouldn’t we?” Her attention falters for a moment. “It was rough for a while… Each home just kept getting shittier and shittier until they ran out of homes to put me in and got tired of running after me… I ran into some other kids. You’ve met Crusher, yeah?” 

“He threw me in here, yeah?” 

“That’s him,” she proudly agrees with a finger gun pointed near her friend. “Sorry about the manhandling, it’s kind of General Raven’s rules.” The sparkle doesn’t dull from her eyes as she presses her face against one of the bars. She knew her cheek would turn red, but she couldn't find it in herself to mind, still smiling softly and eyes dancing with life. “There was this little deaf girl that Crusher was really soft for, _Soli._ Called her that because she liked the way music made her feel when she felt it, cute little thing, smaller than us. She was sweet, but… I have no idea what happened to her.” 

“What’d you mean?” Maggie asks with a raised brow. “Kids don’t just disappear?” 

“Dunno,” Flygirl says with a shrug. From her expression, she liked the kid, too. “We were kind of close for a while, but she started getting into some serious crime to get her dad’s attention and mom’s affection. Mom was pretty abusive, from what I understood, even left a big scar on the kids’ hip from throwing a plate at her that shattered.” She drags a finger across a line a good portion of the way up her side. “Her daddy was great, though, but had another kid and only wanted one. She didn’t talk about family too much.” 

Maggie counters, “With a mom like that, I don’t think I would, either.” 

Flygirl cringes, keeping the entire _that’s exactly what your mom is like when she’s drunk,_ bit to herself as she moves on with the topic at hand. “She just disappeared, which was weird. She’d never get caught without wanting to and she knew how to cover her tracks just fine. I guess her mom was some big-timey something because kid was _great_ with computers.” 

Maggie shrugs. “We could look for her…” 

“I don’t need an _I-owe-you_ from MetaJets or your family or whatever, Maggie,” Flygirl says with a sharp glare, standing up at her blonde companion opens the door. 

“S’my turn to watch the prisoner.” 

“Good. I was getting bored,” is all the girl says before they part ways, not leaving the two any room to refute her. Her parting words don’t sit too kindly with Maggie’s stomach. She doesn’t voice that. 

-

The decoys are annoying, to say the least, each one progressively getting shot down through the obvious annoyance of the three boys attempting to track their friend down. However, Zak interrupts, “Wait, Burner, can you get one of those before you destroy it?” 

“Why,” their leader questions, a suspicious brow raised and weapons at the ready. 

“So I can see if I can trace the signals, duh,” he says with a smile on his face, “It should be a lot easier to dissect that way.” 

“I could try, but I’m not sure if it’ll fit in my haul,” he admits, “But maybe we could try Ace’s?” 

“Mine isn’t much bigger than yours,” the redhead says with a shrug, but it’s clear he’s agreeing the instant he hears it. “We could trail it along, too, if it really came down to it.” 

All Zak supplies is a cryptic, “Maybe.” 

-

Maggie clicks at the button on her bracelet, silently praying that her jet will pick up the signal. However, it’s rather easy to tell within that moment that, _no,_ it won’t be picking up the signal any time soon. She’s either too far or the cell is messing with her bracelet. Or _both,_ which is what she’s really suspecting right now. She peers around the room, searching for any sort of _out_ she can get, the bracelet that is her tell to her jet currently ineffective. She silently hopes Flygirl isn’t poking around her jet. 

Her eyes land on the chair Crusher seems to be asleep in, an easy realization hitting her. It takes her two seconds to think out the plan _(and decide that it’s her worst plan in a while)_ and start to do it. She’s not thinking clearly as she reaches her leg outside of the cell, just wide enough to get up to the thigh out of but stopped by her hips. Either way, it’s enough room to reach the leg of the chair.

_“Fuck,”_ she whispers to herself before kicking the wooden leg. The chair falls back, it’s occupant landing with a loud thud and groan. 

“What the _fuck,”_ Crusher hollers, wheezing as he stands and coughs, the wind so harshly knocked out of him. It’s clear that was going to take a moment or two to recuperate from. She grimaces for him He stands up, glaring at her with a tazer already pulled out. It’s practically a miracle he hadn’t tazed himself within his haste as he threatens, “Pull something like that _again_ and you’ll eating two-thousand volts!” 

Her eyes rake over the device for a second before asking, “Hey, did you make that for herself?” She raises a brow, finger half-heartedly pointed at it. “It doesn’t look like any brand I’ve seen.” 

“A friend made it for me,” he replies. 

The girl cocks her head to the side to ask, “Was it Soli?” 

He growls, glaring down the hall. “Flygirl told you about her, huh?” 

She nods with a smile. “You know, Crusher, we’ve got some state of the art tracking stuff on the ship, I’m sure we could track her down for you.” 

There’s a moment where he pauses, looking somewhat pained. There’s clear turmoil. Maggie isn’t lying, though. She’s sure they can track Soli down _somehow._ However, he shakes his head and glares. “Kid had mad skills, you wouldn’t be able to find her. She’s probably dead in a ditch, anyway.” He pauses before seemingly relaxing somewhat. “Even if she isn’t… _dead_ or just missing, she’d be forced to go home after we find her… And that wouldn’t be good for any of us.” 

Maggie raises a confused brow. “What’d you mean?” 

“Her mom’s pretty big, some important scientist with big studies or whatever. But who isn’t nowadays?” The boy seemingly softens, the shocking device getting put in his pocket. “She’s pretty rough with her. When we were kids, she’d disappear for days. When she came back, she was always covered in bandages or bruised up. We had to learn how to keep her from getting infected and got by on what we could. Her mom didn’t deserve a kid to even begin with.” 

“Jeez,” Maggie mumbles. The somber atmosphere makes her almost lurch forward. She can’t explain why she suddenly wants nothing more than to hug the big guy. She’s not even a touchy-feely sort of person! She raises up as she suggests, “What if… We found a way to get her back without giving her to her mother? I’m sure my dad could find something to help her out with, or MetaJets if we really had to?” 

“Then I’d probably do whatever I could to help you,” he supplies to the other. 

Maggie smiles and nods. “Okay, then, let me out and I’ll get in contact with my dad. I’m sure he can help me start a search.” 

Crusher scoffs. “And how do I know I can trust you, Blondie?” 

“You’re blonde, too!” Maggie scoffs in return, though she softens after a moment. She smiles at him, “You really don’t… But you’ll have to trust my word as both an ARC racer that goes around the world enough to meet a lot of people _and_ the daughter of Captain George Strong…” 

He tentatively scans the girl up and down. 

-

Flygirl sighs as she sits in the chair that Maggie had been in only a few hours before. It feels almost bittersweet to see her again. She missed Maggie, _yes,_ found the girl to be her first crush when they were children. That feeling till had yet to dwindle, sparked up again like a fire that merely needed kindling to roar once more. And roar it does, taking her over, the wildfire spreading through her whole entire body. She’s not sure what General Raven is going to do to Maggie, but she knows it won’t end up well. She doesn’t think he’ll be too unkind to the girl, but… She remembers the beatings Soli would take, the ones she took so Crusher and Flygirl never had to, despite being the youngest and smallest of them. She girl may have been frail as a stick, but she learned to stand her ground. 

The girl doesn’t want to see the disappearance of Maggie Strong play out the way the disappearance of Soli was. She wouldn’t be able to face any more somber replies and cryptic hints with sly smirks from her commander. No, not again. The topic was already painful enough _without_ remembering the wounds Soli collected again and again. 

She flicks on the jet, silently praying that her tracker is silent and won’t go detected by General Raven. There were no cameras to give way that _Flygirl,_ of _all people,_ helped the blonde get rescued. Not only would General Raven have her head, but so probably would everyone else on this blacklisted, godforsaken ship. 

The tracker beeps a time or two, flashing red with a knowing alert that came from her father. She flicks the jet off. It’s only on long enough to send a distress beacon. That’s all Maggie needs. 

Much to her surprise, Crusher is walking with Maggie as she trots out of the jet. Flygirl doesn’t say anything, just flicking her eyes over the two. Maggie teases, “Keeping the jet warm for me, Venus?” 

“Want you safe so I can kick your ass on a fair fighting ground,” Flygirl easily counters, her cheeks heating at the name she hadn’t heard since she was a child. The last she had heard it was from her mother. She tosses her gaze over towards the green jet, smiling softly. “I called your friends, better hope your tracker isn’t big enough for General Raven to get a hold of it.” 

There’s a loud _boom_ outside, one that shakes the entire ship. The three barely avoid falling over. Crusher holds the two girls up, having taken most of their weight on himself. “I guess that’s your cue to leave,” is all he says. Flygirl half-heartedly wonders what deal they struck up to have Maggie now climbing into her jet unharmed. 

“Maggie Strong,” she says into the mic, not even getting her name all the way out before there’s another string of others talking. “Vector, I need you to make a note to search for a little girl.” 

_“Oh,”_ comes a voice that Flygirl just barely hears, _“Who?”_

“Her name’s Soli.” 

Flygirl’s eyes widen, her attention turning to Crusher as he says, “And she’s a bit of a street rat, but super good at mechanics.” 

“You get that, Vector?” 

_“Yep,”_ comes a chipper reply. 

-

After a briefing with the Captain, Maggie flops beside Zak, the two laid out on the boy’s bed with Johnny and Trey in the beanbags on the floor, fighting over who was first controller. The blonde girl curls around her friend, softly asking, “How’s it going with Soli?” 

“Well,” Zak begins, “you didn’t give me much to go off of and there are thousands of kids _named_ some form _of_ Soli, but I can’t find anyone like what you’re talking about.” 

“Little girl, kinda scrappy, white hair…” Maggie runs along the list Crusher had given her. “I know it’s not a lot since puberty probably hit her with the same truck it does everyone else, but…” 

“What’s your fascination with this kid,” Johnny asks, now laying on the ground, pinned beneath Trey, who was practically _lounging_ on the redhead. Despite that, Johnny still holds the first controller. 

“I’m doing a favor for an old friend…” 

Trey rolls his eyes, laughing. “Zak is our cryptid, Maggie, not you.” 

“Oh, so I’m the _cryptid_ now,” Zak asks, making Maggie raise a brow, “What’s that make you all?” 

“Maggie’s our barbarian, I’m our shield, and Johnny is our loveable, dumb human.” 

“You can’t just _mix media like that,_ Trey,” the raven-haired boy yelps, glaring at him, “It stops making sense after so much! And most barbarians _are_ human!” 

“Then he’s our loveable zero-brain celled idiot,” Maggie interrupts, “while you and I are the only ones with brain cells. Johnny and Trey share one but it’s a toss-up of hot potato.” 

Instead of snapping back with something, Trey scoffs to agree, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. _I’ve_ got the brain cell right now, though!” 

_“I’m_ the one winning!” 

“You’re on the top screen, bottom boy!” Retorts their happy leader. 

_“Fuck,”_ is the only response he gets, which pries a laugh from the group. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soli actually isn't an OC, they're just the traitor. And to my one friend that's reading this, I know you know what's going to happen and who Soli is, but I'm still hella hyped to get to it. 
> 
> There are only 4 episodes that I don't think I'll be writing, which are episodes 11, 12, 41, and 42, but that's because I can't find them anywhere. I found episode 12, but I'm not sure if I want to write it or not. However, these other episodes will give the characters backgrounds and go into their origins, which I plan on giving far more of than canon, as I've literally already done just by the second chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> MetaJets slaps
> 
> here's my Discord server  
> https://discord.gg/eGkwayy


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